I was not born to feel sorrow
A angel of the night
That's who I was
My black wings a mockery
of who I was meant to to be
It was not the hurtful words that sliced me
But the kind ones instead
The falseness of the kind words sliced deep
For no good things could be said about me
Black blood leaked in their wake
The poison of who I was flushing out
Nobody would ever bother to bandage me up.
YOU ARE READING
silent screams
Poetrythe screams of the soul from someone who has suffered loss, pain, and heartbreak. everything we all want to say but never can. for all my wordsmiths, this one is for you. #1 in rhyme #5 in poetry #1 in poetry collection #2 poeticjustice
